​God Calls Me Silly Girl


Sometimes my thoughts weaves an intricate picture. I imagine myself seated at a park or bank of a placid lake. I don’t seat alone; he’s with me. I see me, much smaller, leaning on His shoulder and we’re talking. 
I appear to be about five or six years, looking very much like his child, at home in his calming presence. 
I tell him stuff about myself and I don’t feel a lick of shame. The good, bad and ugly, I spew it all out. Mixed up, jumbled ol’ me.

 

I giggle at my foolishness. Believe me, it’s comical…the things I say. He laughs sometimes or share truths that make me pause and think deeply. 
He loops an arm around my shoulder, making me understand His unconditional love is going nowhere. It feels so good. 
My smile is strained as I tell him how really foolish I still think I act. I tell him how I sometimes don’t do what I’m supposed to, how I do the exact opposite. 
He remains silent, listening to me, giving me his attention as he rocks my small frame like a cradle. All my lamentation about my hang-ups pulls no reaction -at least not the one I expect. 
He points out random beautiful things about me, ignoring my flaws, washing them away in his endless waterfall of forgiveness. 
I tell him, “Can’t you see how fickle I am? I mean, look at me. I’m scared I’ll fall and never get up. I’m scared your grace might get tired and kick me to the curb.”
“Nkem, my perfect love casts out fear.”
His response makes me frown. I sigh heavily, and wonder why he wouldn’t just tell me how much of a headstrong, loser of a child I am. At least I’ll know we agree on that. After a moment of comfortable silence, my mind came up with a conclusion. “Heavenly Papa, you’re weird.”
He laughs heartily. The sound is so beautiful. He shakes his head and looks at me with eyes shining with mirth. “It’s normal to be weird. And believe me, I wouldn’t be who I am if I don’t have an earth-shattering, healthy dose of ‘weirdness’. You’re wise to have noticed that about me.” He replies with a light chuckle.
“Oh well.” I drag my hand down my face. It’s obvious there’s no way he’ll think of me as lowly as I sometimes think of myself. “You don’t think I’m a bad child? I’m not so faithful and such.”
“Silly girl, you’re not bad. I’ve permantly made sure of that.” He tweaked my nose playfully. 
I make a face and giggle. “If you say so then I’m not gonna argue with that.”
 *

To me, this is living. A relationship that flows. There can be no true love without complete acceptance. Whatever change that arises after such is simply a response to unconditional acceptance.  
Think of the best father on the planet… well, my God trumps that human a million times over. I firmly believe his company is full of love, joy and laughter. 
I believe he’s so beautifully weird that my mind can only understand his ways as he reveals himself to me. Step by step, light by brighter light.

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