They look like aliens when they first emerge. Crumpled masses of flesh and flexible bones, shrieking to high heaven. Regardless, any parent would welcome the sight and sounds of a healthy newborn. I certainly did.
Becoming a dad was a pivotal moment in my life. To prepare for fatherhood, I had devoured books on parenting, caught up with the latest baby whispering techniques, and even checked out the latest Daddy Blogs. But nothing compares to the private lesson I received on my son’s birthday.
I spoke to my son regularly while he was in his mother’s womb. Whether reading from the Bible, singing him songs and playing my guitar, or telling him about my day at work, I wanted to make sure he knew my voice. Like most babies, when he made his grand entry into our world, he announced his disapproval of the new surrounding with shrieks rivaling that of a pterodactyl. At least, that’s what I suspect pterodactyls would have sounded like.
“Don’t you worry, baby boy,” I called out to him. “I’m right by your side. Mommy is doing fine and we’re all so happy you’re here.”
To my amazement, he stopped crying immediately. Wow – he actually listened to me. He actually listened to me!
And why wouldn’t he? After all, my voice was familiar to him, and because he knew my voice he knew me. And because he knew me he obeyed. It got me thinking. If I, in my fragile humanness, feel such pride and joy over my baby son recognizing my voice, how much more does God feel when I recognize His voice. And better yet – obey.
After things settled down, our newborn lay asleep in a crib next to his mother who was taking a well-deserved nap. I was starving, but instead of heading to the cafeteria I sat next to the crib and stared at our fragile little munchkin with a thousand thoughts racing in my head. Will I be able to care for you? Do I have it in me to do this? You look so beautiful. And I love you so much. You don’t know it yet, but I love you more than my life. You don’t have to do anything to earn my love. You already have it, because you are my son. When you grow up, I hope you will say you love me too. And when you do, I will say that I loved you first.
Just then it hit me. That’s exactly how God feels about me! Without the fear and inadequacy, of course. Selah. Pause and reflect.
I lifted the little bundle and held him in my arms to get a closer look. He definitely had his mother’s lips, but his eyebrows were just like mine. And he smelled so good. I breathed it in deep. It reminded me of freshly baked bread, and this bun was definitely fresh out of the oven. Then I saw him smile. It lasted only a second, but its impact was eternal. And he looked exactly like me. God, I don’t ever want to let him out of my sight. Just then, I felt the Father’s voice again. I don’t want to let you go either. You are my son, made in my image; and when you do things that reflect my love, you look just like Me. Selah some more.
For the longest time God’s love to me was simply a metaphor to describe the love parents have for their children. But it really is the other way around. God doesn’t love like us; we need to love like Him. My strength to be a good father comes from my identity in Christ as a child of God. If I don’t receive His love, I will not be able to love purely. God desires communion with me, for me to grow in His image. And that can only happen when I surrender to Him and let Him love me. Just like my son was trusting me and allowing me to lavish him with a deep love I never knew I had. All this on day one. Wonder what the rest of the journey will be like!
(Port Jefferson, NY. March 7, 2006)
Epilogue
We went on to have two more children and each birth was special. Each delivery brought a whole new perspective on my role as a son to our Heavenly Father, a husband to my awesome wife, and a father to my fearfully and wonderfully made children.
(Adapted and slightly revised from my book Deeper Waters, available on Amazon.com)
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