A Love Story

The unconditional love of a father was largely missing from my upbringing.  My dad was an alcoholic that had suffered at the hand of a, less than kind, step-father.  My dad's father died when he was 4.  My mom's father died when I was 7. The reason I point this out is that for much of my adult life I could not really comprehend the idea of a loving father, earthly or heavenly. The only example I had was from a man who got very angry when he drank, and that was most of the time.  Unfortunately, I was not smart enough to circumvent the storm, and usually jumped right into the fray. This pattern continued into my married life and resulted in visits to my parents cut short. Though I tried to live out a spiritual life in Christ, it was difficult to view things that happened as discipline instead of punishment. God knew I was not a good person, so he would punish me when I screwed up. That was the pattern I understood from my father.  He would harshly punish me even when the offense was small, to prove a point.  Then he would tell others about it and laugh like it was some great joke.  

I would cry out to God that he might show his love for me.  I just wanted to know that I was loved.  I wish I could say that he responded right away, but he didn't.  More time went by.  Maybe I still wasn't ready to receive His love, I don't know. Nevertheless, I am confident that He was right there with me all the way. When I started centering prayer on October 4, 2011, I tried  to comprehend the idea of a gracious and compassionate father from Isaiah 30:18a. I journaled, "As I am trying to comprehend the idea of a compassionate father, I am reminded of my 7th birthday. We had gone to see my grandfather in the nursing home. He was dying from colon cancer. My grandmother was in the habit of giving the grandchildren a dollar for their birthday. It always seemed like she wished she did not need to do even that.  However, the subject came up of my birthday.  My grandfather turned to my grandmother and told her to give me a dollar.  She exclaimed that she had already given me a dollar.  To this he retorted, 'Give him another dollar!', which she reluctantly did.  I realized in that one statement what it meant to be a gracious, compassionate father." That story is the key that unlocked God's love for me.

This is my conversion story. In many ways not unlike the apostle Paul's on the road to Damascus.  As I pondered the story it was as if I was back there, and that I could see Christ present in that room with a knowing smile on His face.  Unlike Paul's conversion story, I think most of our conversion stories are not so flashy or even interesting to most people. It's almost like you can tell what they are thinking, "What's the big deal!" It's only a big deal to Him and I, and that is what makes it so real.

Peace