It
is amazing how filthy something looks when held up close to
something, or in this case, Someone, so pure. The contrast between
His sublime and beautiful righteousness and my feeble and
self-justifying sinfulness was almost unbearable to me.
But
He looked upon me with unreserved acceptance and unconditional love.
He
was not condemning me; that was clear. Nor did I feel the compulsion
to dwell morbidly on my colossal and voluminous failures. Yet at the
same time, it was impossible, in the holy radiance of His glory, to
deny the simple fact of my sins, and I could not help but mourn over
how they obscured His image in me.
It
grieved me deeply to know how far short of His glory I fell; to be so
undeserving of His perfect love.
But
none of that was why, at that moment, I wanted His forgiveness.
No,
it was my fearfulness.
Not
of Him, of course, but of life and loss on the planet below. Because
I knew beyond any shadow of doubt that my fear was due to my
imperfect love of Him. If I loved Him as He had proven He loved me, I
would have no fear.
I
felt the truth of that statement down to the very core of my being.
"Yes,
My son!" He pronounced emphatically with a smile. "I have.
And I do. And I will."
"I
do not want to be afraid, my King, but I am... always. There seem to
be so many threats and dangers below. So much potential for grief and
pain that… I live my life in fear."
I
bowed my head in shame at my admission. I had never felt less worthy
or of so little value.
Amazingly,
I felt His hand on my shoulder as He came alongside me, bearing me
up, giving me strength.
Then
suddenly, I was reliving another vision back on the world. I was in a
large bookstore with my second daughter, born to my wife and I as
Christians, another gift beyond price. We were together, my little
one and I, in this crowded venue, and then, in the next moment, she
was no longer in view.
Gone.
Out of sight.
The
wash of abject terror that swept over me made my knees weak. I was
barely able to stand. The blood was pounding through my arteries.
Adrenalin coursed through my system as if I were about to be hit by
an oncoming train.
I
began to run through the aisles, retracing our steps at breakneck
speed - God help any poor soul who did not leap out of my way.
Countless, unbearable images flooded my brain.
My
little one! How could I be so irresponsible! How much more could I
fail her as father, provider and protector. I was desperately,
quietly frantic. Hours seemed to pass in slow motion. In reality, it
was mere seconds.
I
called her name in a loud voice. It must have been very loud because
people turned my way. I did not care. They were not her. They were
obstacles, obscuring my sight, increasing my desperation.
In
my mind I cried out to my Lord Jesus not to allow me to lose her. To
save her from this horrid and miserable world that could shred a
child's heart and body and mind and soul in an instant.
Then
I saw her! Crouched down on her knees in a characteristically
impossible pose, calmly perusing one of the many books just within
reach, blissfully unaware of her father's faithless panic, and of the
people around her.
I
almost sobbed openly in relief. I wanted to scoop her off the floor
and hold her fiercely in my arms forever, never letting her go, or
risking her loss again.
I
stifled the involuntary cry that threatened to escape my pitiful soul
and embarrass my daughter and bring more unwanted attention to
myself.
As
calmly as I could, I knelt down beside her through tear-filled eyes.
She
was safe. For now. This time.
She
looked up at me and smiled like the loving child she was. Then her
expression changed as she sensed the upheaval in my heart.
"Are
you OK, Daddy?" she asked, so sweetly, so innocently, so
trustingly.
"Of
course," I said with false bravado, hugging her to me tightly.
"I
just couldn't find you for a second," I said, "and I got a
little worried."
It
was the understatement of the century. I was still shaking inside.
"Daddy,"
she said, "I saw you the whole time. I couldn't figure out why
you were running like that. I'm sorry I scared you."
"It
was my fault, sweetheart. Not yours."
"I
wasn't lost. I knew I was safe. I knew you wouldn't leave me alone
for more than a second. It's OK. You didn't lose me. I wasn't worried
a bit. Well, except for the people you almost knocked down. I was a
little worried for them," she said with that smile of hers; that
smile that could melt a glacier.
I
just continued to wordlessly hug her to me in the middle of the
aisle, grateful to My God for being merciful to such a one as me.
"It
was my delight!" He said from right next to me now. "I was
with you. I was with your beloved daughter. And I rejoiced at your
thankfulness."
"And
yes, My son. I forgive you all of it. Always."
© Bill Lilley 2011, 2013
