Growing up I believed there was nothing I could do to help my dad love me more. Regardless of how I behaved, good or bad, I never once thought my dads love for me would change. The problem is, I didn't know my dad loved me at all. Whether I behaved or not didn't seem to matter.
My dad grew up in a dark household where love wasn't on the table. My dad desperately wanted things to be different for my sister and I. But the dye had been cast, kids who behave well have daddies approval.
Early on I got stuck in performance mode. Doing good didn't cause wonderful things to happen between my dad and I, it just caused him to yell......a little less. He had a terrific set of pipes. He was a yelling ninja!
I am not trying to paint a complete scenario of utter horror. There were things my dad would do that were cool. But often those things were done with an expectation that I would somehow behave better now. "Here son, enjoy this motorbike." "Didn't do well in school, remind me why I would bother buying you gas for the motorbike."
The motorcycle was my favorite thing. Such freedom and fun. I had to steal gas from his truck in order to ride.
He had this quirky thing where every couple of months he would offer me a "clean slate". I never knew what the hell a slate was or why it needed cleaning. I figured I was being offered a new beginning and we could just forget the junk I had done. Then a few days later I would repeat a prior failure only to have those past failures brought up again. You can't wipe smooth engraved marble.
My failures were always before me. Behind me. To the side. Below, above....damn. I really had no clue how to escape.
There was a rewards system that was tried. I learned quickly that I didn't get any better with rewards. I didn't have the kind of patience to get the rewards or the rewards were stupid.
We tried punishment. Dad would blow up then sulk, punishments never had any rhyme or reason. I could count on a huge speech about choices and how we lose opportunities by making wrong choices. If I chose well I could become anything, but every poor choice means one less thing I could be.
Once my step-mom told me I was killing my dad. He had terrible indigestion and coughed up colorful things in the morning. When he quit smoking that went away. I still smoke......I blame her ;)
Ok Josh, why bring this up now?
Good question!
I just had breakfast with my dad who tried to convince me that how I behave directly affects my relationship to God. If I behave well God draws me in a little closer. Bad behavior pushes God away.
Fuck off dad. Fuck you and your earning favor trip. If you want me to be good in order to love me......whatever. But to say that I can earn favor with God is insane. He is so utterly pure and I am so fatally flawed. I can't do it.
I believe in absolute grace today. I believe God has done everything necessary for me to have a right relationship with him. By offering himself on the cross I have nothing else I can offer.
OK, enough preaching. Who begins preaching with a curse word anyways?!!!
I just want to go fishing. Let's go get a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake. I want to be free from performance. Worrying about performance is narcissistic.
The truth is, I do behave better today. I am a more honorable son. You can rely on me to keep my word. But those things are what happened because I was loved without condition. I am not responsible for those things happening. Those things happened inspite of myself.
God is not my boss. I am not his employee. How I perform my work has no correlation to how he regards me. He paid a huge ransom to call me his son. Today I am free to fail!
And fail I do! I probably failed God a dozen times just writing this blog, more if you count my thoughts!
Martin Luther said that we should sin boldly so we would understand grace. Hey Martin, I get it!
"When I rightly deserved my dad’s disappointment, he assured me of his delight." - Tullian Tchividjian
......please read my next posting......
Powerful!
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