a continuing thought

What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.
-- A. W. Tozer, from The Pursuit of God

This quote had me considering my post from Thursday, and I wondered what false perception of God still allows me to view myself as an "untouchable." I said myself that no child of God should be able to count the love expressions that he has received. I feel that my deception is related to this term "child of God."

One of the most painful reinforcements I received was during the altar call of a Sunday morning service. I was serving in a voluntary youth role after stepping away from my pastoral internship, and struggled to develop relationships with other adults. For the most part, the church was appreciative that we invested in the discipleship of their teens, and were otherwise hands off. This particular morning, the pastor preached about the walls we build in bitterness and loneliness, and the word cut to my heart. He invited those that needed intercession to come forward, and I approached with tears. One by one, the other adults had hands laid on them, likely by fellow parents and Sunday School buddies. I continued to kneel alone through the benediction, and they began to depart after the pastor's final prayer.

Glassy eyed, but hurting and angry, I stood to exit. A woman I had previously been interested in approached to see if I was okay. I fake smiled, said "sure," and walked past her to my car.

I watch how good parents look out for their children, and my heart is moved. The little boy gets a hug or the little girl gets her knee kissed, and suddenly everything is better. The circumstance of the pain has not changed, but the child knows where to find comfort. I have to be honest, this is beyond my reasoning. It is natural for me to gravitate towards the hurting with concern, but I have rarely known this grace. If you do not know it through your parents nor your local church, it is not an easy characteristic to attribute to God.

Brothers and sisters have confessed to me that they don't consider my need for help: when I reveal truth into their lives, they incorrectly assume I am without fault. (Please brethren, don't expect this of your leaders.) In response, I became proactive about sharing my struggles, which only led to uncomfortable silence or well-intended rebuke. But I didn't need a doctor to tell me I was sick -- I already knew that. I needed to know that I wasn't drifting into the darkness without a hand to hold.

And somehow I must believe that God extends that hand. I must ignore the evidence of earthly pain and deception and trust that He desires to hold me. I'm not sure how to do this. I have grown comfortable and trusting while serving Him as Lord, but I fail to recognize His voice when He addresses me as a Father to His son.

Father, let me understand the words of the song prophesied over me, that I would know your comfort in my loneliness and despair:

He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters.

He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me.

They confronted me in the day of disaster, but the LORD was my support.

He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me. (Psalm 18:16-19)