Oh Lord, I wonder if this is a little like how You felt on the walk to Calvary.  Tired.  Beaten.  Defeated.  Emotionally spent.  Physically spit on.  Cursed at with words of hate.  By the very people You came to love, no less.  That’s what hit me about half way there.  And then it all started making more sense.

My sweet daughter, we took this drive years ago, you and I.  Well…a similar drive anyway.  Back when you were still in a pumpkin seat, it was a 40 minute one-way drive from Newton, Kansas to Wichita at 3:00 am to get you to fall asleep.  Tonight it’s an hour and fifteen minutes one way hoping you fall asleep so this verbally abusive, self-destructive tirade you’re on will end.  I think it would have been a farther drive had it not been for three things: We drove out of the range of our local Christian radio station – which felt like the only thing keeping me close enough to God to keep trying; your mom and brothers were stranded at church without a ride because we dropped them off mid-meltdown; and the low-fuel light came on…not enough gas to make it home.

Just a few short hours ago, as I cried through the realization that I can’t go on like this, it was my prayer that God would show me how.  How to go on.  How to be the father you need.  How to show compassion through my frustration.  How to help you.  How to love you.

He’s faithful to hear our cries, you know.  As my heart cried out to Him, the words of the song “Every Good Thing” rang out over the radio, piercing my heart and soul like the nails being driven into the very hands and feet of Christ himself.  And He awakened my mind and opened my heart to the realization that the answer to my prayer is found in the life of Jesus.  How do I love you?  I love you how Jesus loves me.  At the height of His pain, He loved the ones who put Him there the most…asking the Father to “forgive them for they know not what they do” – Luke 23:34.

At the height of our pain, His love is greatest.  At the depth of our depression, His love is greatest.  In the solitude of our loneliness, His love is greatest.  At the precipice of our failure, His love is greatest.  At the end of our love, His love is greatest.

I know that when you’re in the middle of a meltdown like this, you don’t know what you’re doing.  I know that you can’t control yourself in this.  I know that the things you do and the words you use are beyond your ability to tame.   I know that this isn’t you, and that if you knew how to stop it, you would.  I know you’re just as powerless to stop it as I am.  And I love you no less for it.  God doesn’t make mistakes.  He doesn’t make anything less than what He intended.  You are “Every Good Thing”.  You are just who He wants you to be…and just who I love…not for what you do or say…but for who you are.  The problem lies within me…not you.

Love,

Dad

And for today, I claim the promise that Your grace, oh Lord, is sufficient.  Lord, please grant it in proportion to today’s need.  And let tomorrow be a new day with a new portion sufficient to meet tomorrow’s need.  Father, I ask that daily You sustain me when I call on on Your name.  When I’m challenged and struggling to love my child through the hate-filled fits in which she knows not what she’s saying or how to stop, bring me to the foot of the cross, oh Lord, that I might see how You loved those who knew not what they were doing.  Show me that kind of love Lord…that I might also show it.  It’s in Your name I bow and in Your name I pray. Amen.

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