It happens every time. Every time I
go to see either of my little ladies sing or play music I end up blatting like
an eight-year-old girl. Not really sure why. Now my kids are fantastic –
probably better than yours, but they are far from perfect. I’m not crying
because of the power of their performance or the perfection of the timbre, or
the amazing vocal range. I think maybe I’m crying just because they are my kids
- doing the best they can – and because I love them more than I could ever even
begin to express here (and I’m usually pretty good with words, so that’s saying
something right there, isn’t it?)
Anyway - as I sat there again tonight
silently with tears streaming down my face and watched my little ten-year-old
lady sing God spoke to me very clearly. As I watched the several soloists come
to the mic and do their thing, some were great (like my girl) and others just
did the best they could with the gifts they had. When they would return to
their places after their solos I noticed something really cool in common
to every single one…
Well – actually I noticed a couple of things.
First – I noticed you can always
tell the parents of the soloist by the camera phones that pop up as each child
steps to the mic. Second – I noticed that as each child returned to their spot
I would see them make eye contact with their parents, and then I’d see that
smile of satisfaction when they saw that big smile on the faces of the people
they loved. In that moment - they knew they were approved of, regardless of the
performance. Tonight Jesus reminded me that my walk with Him has had some good
performances – and some really bad ones – but He also reminded me that just as
my love for Anna, and my acceptance of her as my child was not dependant upon
her performance, neither is His love dependent upon mine. My walk with Jesus is
just like every person reading this, if they are really honest with themselves.
It is also just like every character in the Bible. Well - except for one. This
journey has not been a climb toward dizzying spiritual heights, but a
continuous, long lesson on love from the master, and a journey of exploration
in to the recesses of my very own heart, to face the fear and darkness that still
dwells there more than twenty years after Jesus took me.
The sin remains no matter how hard I work to
get rid of it, and every layer I manage to remove only reveals a new layer of
filth and gook for Jesus to deal with! On nights like tonight though – all that
is OK. On nights like tonight my faith is renewed through my tears, as my God
reminds me that my performance is not the deciding factor - anymore than Anna’s
performance could cause her to cease to be my child. The fact that He is my
father is my assurance that when I don’t know where I stand, I can look to Him
and know I am safe. I am gently held by the arms of my loving Father, and dwell
in His mercy and grace - not because of the greatness of my performance – but
because of the greatness of His performance on behalf of all who cry Abba,
Father. Who knows? Maybe deep down that’s why I cry.
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