I wept. I admit it.
It had just rained and the pavement was shiny and wet. I was driving and saw it: a dad on a big bicycle leading his daughter and son on their little bicycles.
I was weeping for two reasons. One, it was so beautiful. Even if we don’t know it, we all long for a father that will guide us. Not from a distance. One who will ride right there with us on a rainy day. I also wept because it just doesn’t happen much. It’s rare. There are not many dads who will ride in front of you on a bike.
In the Old Testament God lead the people of Israel by using pillars of fire and such. I still think He’s in the business of leading today. It’s just a bit more subtle. See, Jesus mentioned that the big guy in charge of everything is actually our dad.
Drop the mic.
Sounds pretty bicycley to me.
That's a massive idea. The one who's holding the whole universe together may just be the picture of dad you need. But it gets messy, right? The way I see it, there are two reasons for this (sorry, I really like lists):
- The world is messed up. How can that guy up there be good?
- Dads can be awful. I’ve observed that a lot of times they leave a bad taste around the concept of father.
Me personally, I dig my dad. He’s not perfect, but we’re able to work things out and be honest. The most profound thing he does is listen to me when I’m reeling. He hears me out. Sometimes he’ll even take one on the chin if it means getting to what’s really going on. That’s probably why I feel so much liberty to yell at God. I have this idea that God can handle and it and won’t hate me afterwards.
But even with a pretty good dad, life tends to throw lemons. Let talk about them.
For me it was sexual abuse when I was eleven. It was violent and it left some scars to say least. It was a kid from the neighborhood who was a lot bigger than me and he said he wanted to play in the woods.
He didn’t want to play in the woods.
I figured that out when I saw the knife. My life was threatened and I learned a lot of things I wish I could erase. I was spared, but left with a pretty big question. Something to the tune of...
“God, how the crap could You let that happen?”
Was God on lunch from being God? Could He have spared a cosmic minute for helpless kid? I’ve asked that a bunch. After hours and hours and thousands of dollars’ worth of counseling, I still have to ask.
I don’t have lots of good answers for “why,” but I’ve come to believe that God was there. That like any good dad He was horrified. He was just as upset as I was if not more, because He had to watch one of His kids hurt another one His kids. Figure that out.
I would never pretend to understand your story, friend. It doesn’t have to be sexual abuse to be valid. I’ve noticed not one human escapes the planet without experiencing some rough pain. I’m just wondering if somehow you can entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, there’s someone in charge who not only gives a crap, but feels all of our pain right along with us. One who weeps with us, longs to repair our brokenness. A good dad. Maybe even the type that would ride a bike with you on a wet day.
Heavenly Father, I don’t even know if I want to call You that. If You’re good can you please show me? It doesn’t always feel like it. I want so desperately to believe that it’s true. Amen.