God the Father

God often perplexes me. One way that God perplexes me is that He says that He is my father. As if a father were a good thing. I don’t think so. Somewhere deep down inside of me, maybe in my toes, I may house a faint desire for a father. I have yet to navigate that far into myself, however. I may attempt to find a mother, but I never feel an ounce of interest in creating a father-daughter type relationship with anyone. When I think of father, at best, I draw a blank space in my head. At worst, I recoil and quite literally gag. Now obviously, based on the nature of my blog, we know that there is plenty of trauma crap to serve as a basis for this revulsion toward parental units, but I would like to figure out how to help myself enter deeper into relationship with God the Father.

When I chat with God, we reach an impasse every single time He starts to talk about His parental love for me. I just flat out don’t comprehend it. I would have thought that being a parent would soften my heart for God’s parental role in my life, but it doesn’t seem to translate. I am an adult. I have two beautiful, wonderful, cherished babies, whom I mother whole-heartedly and with great delight. But I can’t seem to place myself in their shoes, as the one delighted in. I believe that I must have spent so much of my childhood reprimanding myself for my silly dreams of being loved and parented that I trained the need to be loved right out of myself. Certainly, I understand that we were created for this relationship. It is primary and at our core, but I just can’t find my own need.

As I read Anne Lamott’s Small Victories, she writes of the need to be welcomed in life and her sense of lack welcome while growing up. I share her experience. No one was around to welcome me into a room, to delight in my presence or long for me when I was absent. I certainly don’t expect to be welcomed. I expect to be a burden or a drain. I live life apologetic of my existence. I caught myself singing to a song with my husband and children the other night and flinched at the awareness of my own voice. Whenever I am made aware of my own voice, whether in conversation or song, I want to cry. I cannot understand how anyone would welcome me anywhere.

God, forgive me for shutting you down when you call yourself my loving Father. Show me what this means, and help me to excavate that anciently-buried need for a father. I believe that the need is there, and I believe that you can revive it. I understand that with its revival will come grief and pain, but I trust that further healing can take place too. I want to experience as much of You as possible in this life, and if that means that you become a parent to me, please redeem parenthood.