I’m really surprised that after training camp this is the first thing I feel led to blog about, because it doesn’t really have to do with all the training camp stuff. Although, without the experiences we had there, I probably wouldn’t be writing this. God has recently been pouring so much truth about who he is as a father into me, and I really want to talk about this beautiful part of his heart that I’ve been seeing.
Over the past year, God has really been trying to bring me into his love as a father, and I have really been pushing that down in favor of Jesus and Holy Spirit. I find it pretty easy to relate to a friend and savior who died for me, as well as a friend who is always there with me in the highest and lowest moments of my life. But not so much to a father who I can trust, sit close to, and approach with anything.
Growing up, I was definitely hurt by my father figures more than anything else. God has brought so much freedom, forgiveness, and redemption into these relationships, but they took a toll on my relationship with God the Father in ways I didn’t even realize until training camp. Looking back it’s like “HELLO, that was an obvious issue,” but it’s so crazy how I didn’t see it. I had been so close with Jesus and Holy Spirit, and I truly didn’t realize that I wasn’t the same with the Father, until I was pushed to sit alone with him face to face.
One of my squad leaders guided us through this prayerful one on one time with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, separately with each of them. When my leader said “you’re sitting across from the Father,” right away, I felt this heaviness, deep grief and sadness in the air around us. It was so weird because even though it was painful, it wasn’t hopeless. It was somehow very sensitive, peaceful, and redemptive. Next, he said, “look at the Fathers face,” and as I stared and focused, I realized I couldn’t see. God’s face was blurry, like I was looking through a super dirty lens.
I knew right away that God was showing me I had a relational issue with him as a father. Even though I knew him, I wasn’t seeing him clearly. God showed me that I associate the Father with pain, and anytime I communicate directly with him (instead of focusing on my friends Jesus and Holy Spirit) there’s this heavy, underlying feeling of pain and sadness. Even though I would tell you that I understand the things my fathers did don’t reflect who God is or how he sees me, somehow they still translated over to how I interact with God as my Father. My perception of “father” was formed by imperfect men in an imperfect world, but God is a perfect father. So how could I really see him through my imperfect lens of what a father is?
